


Blue's Day

by orphan_account



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Age Difference, Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Parent/Child Incest, Underage Kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-10
Updated: 2014-01-10
Packaged: 2018-01-08 05:02:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1128641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Something had gone awry with John’s day, of that he was certain.</i>
</p><p> </p><p>Dad tries to talk to his angsty teenage son and also makes out with him (just a little).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blue's Day

**Author's Note:**

> [Title shamelessly stolen from here!!](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yMjbOEjvhPQ)

Something had gone awry with John’s day, of that he was certain. His son had yanked open the front door to let himself in, dropped all of his things onto the floor with a huff, and untied his shoes with enough force to fringe the laces. He’d also pointedly ignored the cheery “Welcome home!” Dad had offered him, instead scaling the stairs to his room two steps at a time with his head held low.

Dad racked his brain to recall if John had anything special scheduled that day. He hadn’t arrived home any later than usual and the school hadn’t called him to report he’d been late to class, so he hadn’t missed either of his buses. He hadn’t mentioned being nervous over upcoming tests of presentations either, and he’d never had difficulty making friends.

Trouble with girls (or even other boys) was, of course, out of the question. It was unsettling to think of just _how_ long it had been out of the question; how long John had been harboring romantic feelings for him without his knowledge. Dad made a mental note to ask his son about it later, when he was in a more amicable mood.

Rummaging through his cupboards and turning on his oven, he busied himself with a batch of cupcakes, intending to give John some time to calm down before attempting to talk to him.  By the time they were in the oven, twenty minutes had passed. Washing his hands and draping his apron over a chair, he made his way upstairs. He was surprised to find that his son's bedroom door was closed, but not locked.

“John? I’m coming in.” Dad said, rapping his knuckles twice against John’s bedroom door. When he received no reply, he turned the handle and let himself in, standing in the doorway and closing the door with a quiet click behind him.

He wasn’t surprised to see his son sitting in front of his computer, typing up a storm of bright blue messages to one of his online friends. John glanced back at him, acknowledging his presence and sending one final message before swiveling around in his chair.

“Hey.” He said. There was a long moment of silence as Dad waited for him to come and join him, finally patting the empty space on the mattress next to him as an invitation. John eyed his hand against the sheets for a few seconds before coming to sit next to him, the bed dipping underneath their combined weight. Dad reminded himself to buy John a larger bed; John’s recent growth spurt had left it several inches too short. Also, maybe if his son had a different mattress to sleep on he would stop using his new height as an excuse to spend the night in Dad’s bed.

“Can I ask what’s on your mind, John?” Dad began.

John shrugged dismissively, staring downcast at the carpet. “Nothing.”

A small frown on his face, Dad tried again. “How was your day?”

John shook his head, shrugging his shoulders again. “Same-o, same-o.”

Dad suppressed a sigh. He had already begun to miss the days where John would rush home and immediately start telling him all about what he’d done in class, or what pranks he’d pulled and the graffiti he’d read scrawled in the school bathroom stalls. Recently, even getting John to eat his cooking and go to bed at a reasonable hour had been a struggle.

John was nearly fifteen: he was a full-fledged teenage boy, foul moods included. If whatever was irking him was truly serious, Dad knew he’d find out eventually. John had always been terrible at keeping secrets.

 “When you’re ready to talk, I’m here for you.” Dad offered with a smile, rubbing at John’s shoulders in an attempt to get him to relax.

John hesitated before replying, his cheeks dusted with a light shade of pink. “Thanks, Dad.” He seemed to debate with himself for a moment before leaning forward to plant a chaste kiss on Dad’s lips, small hands landing on his father’s broader shoulders to keep his balance. Dad reciprocated with a smile, feeling John’s fingers run through where his hair was turning silver at the sides.

It was easier to ignore the guilt sitting heavy in his stomach when John was always the one to initiate contact. Brushing his lips across his son’s cheek, Dad tucked his hair aside to kiss his ear, large palms settling on John’s hips and rearranging him in his lap. He could feel the blush burning hot on his son’s face as he kissed him, front teeth bumping awkwardly against Dad’s upper lip. It was endearing how hard John always tried to impress him.

When John moved down to kiss open-mouthed at Dad’s neck, subtly grinding his hips up against his father’s midsection, Dad pulled away, a frown on his face. “John.”

“C’mon, Dad,” His son whined, wrinkling up his nose like a disgruntled cat. “Please? I’m mature enough to handle it, I promise.”

“We talked about this already, John.” Dad berated him. His own cheeks were betraying him, flushed a shade darker than usual and hot to the touch. It was hard to ignore the pleasant weight of John draped across his front, the crotch of his shorts pressed to his button-up shirt. “I am not having you until you turn eighteen and _not_ a minute _earlier_. Do not even _try_ to persuade me to do otherwise.” They were crossing enough boundaries as it was. Giving into John before he was a legal adult was something Dad would not allow himself to do.

A part of him hoped that by the time he hit eighteen John would outgrow _this_ , whatever _this_ was, so he could stop feeling like a terrible man and an even worse father. Another part of him was ashamed to admit that he wanted John’s feelings for him to be far more than just a phase. That part of him was to blame for the dark circles underneath his eyes, the wrinkles he had found earlier that morning while standing over the sink to get ready for work.

That part of him was also responsible for the warm weight of John’s body curled up next to him at night, the steady rise and fall of his chest, the precious way he clung to the front of Dad’s nightshirt in his sleep, and the adorable shade of red John’s face was when he woke up flustered and in need of a cold shower the next morning. Try as he might, Dad couldn’t hate himself entirely for going along with what John wanted, and it frightened him sometimes.

John brought him out of his thoughts with an indignant huff, burying his face into Dad’s neck to muffle an over exaggerated groan. The scent of Dad’s shaving cream and tobacco were the strongest there, clinging to his skin long after he’d showered. He could feel John inhale it in and then exhale with a heavy sigh, lips moving against his skin.

“...Fine, I’ll wait a little while longer," he said, wiggling out of his father’s hold and flopping onto the mattress. “But you have to let me sleep in your bed tonight to make up for it.”

Dad sighed indulgently, a small smile on his lips. He patted John on the back, calloused fingertips tapping lightly against his spine.

“Fair enough.”


End file.
